


Supplication

by Silent_of_Spirit



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, I have no excuse for this, Longing and emotions and sex OH MY, Love Confessions, hey look my first contribution to this lovely fandom, let's just pretend I know how clothes work okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-10-01 16:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_of_Spirit/pseuds/Silent_of_Spirit
Summary: "I am bound for Doma on the morrow, and all my treacherous heart longed for was to see you ere I depart."The words were on her tongue, taunting, teasing, but she could not give them voice – could not allow herself that taste of freedom. To bare her heart and perhaps learn of his own? It was selfish to want such a thing when so much rode on them both... indulgence was not a luxury afforded to figures such as they.





	Supplication

**Author's Note:**

> *Throws confetti*
> 
> I haven't written in forever but I am TRASH for Ser Aymeric. Heavensward was a story so profound and so emotional and I was just happy to be dragged along for the ride and utterly ruined. So here is my first humble contribution to fandom! I'm sure there will be more to come, especially now that Shadowbringers is ruining my life.
> 
> Also disclaimer: I didn't proofread overmuch, simply because I would have talked myself out of posting it so... bear that in mind.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Once the stomach twisting, pinched sensation of aethernet travel faded, she could feel the delicate touch of gentle snow upon her cheeks. The air was bitterly cold, yet full glad was she to inhale that burning chill.

Ishgard,

_Home._

She tried not to allow the melancholy that stirred take root. She would come back – she _would_ – gods preserve her.

And yet there she stood upon the steps of Foundation, driven by a need to speak with the one person around whom she felt completely at ease... mostly. In truth, the depth of her affections saw that her heart began to flutter in his presence, her all-encompassing calm only a memory when he was near. How rare it was for her to be rattled, ever the visage of easy serenity that the other Scions turned to as an example when their own emotions threatened to consume them.

But they did not know how beneath her icy facade she _burned_ with an intensity that still frightened even her. Ascians, Primals, Calamities – she would face them all with the same grim determination and purpose that fueled her every action, but fear was not present on those battlefields. Things would happen as they should, she always believed, and if that included her death... well then, so be it.

The feeling within her breast, however, struck a fear so deep she wondered if she would ever be able to escape its grasping claws. She had long ago ceased trying to deny its existence, opting instead to allow the emotion she knew she could not quell – though she would never act on it. She had too much on her shoulders – an entire world – and he, embroiled in the politics of reform. But it did not halt her steps through the city, though reason tried to rear its head in argument.

The hour was late, but still she moved through the darkness toward the Congregation where she knew he would be poring over reports and letters, drafting replies and plans, likely drinking that cloyingly sweet concoction he liked to pretend was tea. A fond smile tugged at her lips at the image, knowing the level of his dedication was matched only by her own. It was, she knew, one of the many reasons she had fallen for the taciturn man. He ever had the well-being of his people and his city in his heart, forgoing his own needs in the maintenance of his endeavors.

She paused a moment before the fountain, doubt stilling her steps and causing a strange sort of disquiet in her mind. The hour _was_ late, and she suddenly wondered at the impropriety of such a visit.

She was bound across the sea on the morrow, crossing into Imperial territory with the firm knowledge that she may not return. Was it truly so heinous to allow herself one selfish moment of respite in the wake of it? She wished only to look upon him, to engage in their easy camaraderie and indulge in the conversations that always held her so delightfully rapt. She found comfort in his presence.

Resolve solidified, she carried on, pushing the great doors open just enough for her to slip into the silence. It was dark and empty, her footsteps echoing off the stone in the cavernous hall. Another smile found its way to her lips as she saw the telltale glow of firelight trickling into the hall from the slightly ajar door to his office, likely left so after Lucia tried in vain to convince him to go home.

She couldn't help her huff of amused laughter as she pushed the door open to see him exactly where she expected, hunched over his desk with a quill in hand, penning a letter with such single-minded focus that he had neglected entirely to notice her presence. She rapped her knuckles on the open door, trying and failing to hide her amusement when he jerked his head up in surprise, quill dragging across the parchment. He glanced down for a moment, swearing quietly before he set the quill to the side and greeted her with a genuinely warm smile.

“Lady Ivara,” he welcomed, rising from his plush chair. She waved dismissively at him as she entered the office fully, knowing he would read it as intended – _please sit_ – though he elected to ignore her request as he rounded his desk.

“I've muddied your letter,” she said with a slight grin, tilting her head as she regarded him.

He looked worn. The circles beneath his eyes were darker than last she had seen him, his impeccable waves mussed as though he had spent long hours running his hands through them – which was not, she suspected, entirely off the mark. But the warmth in his eyes when he looked upon her made the rest fade away.

He let out a breathless laugh as he glanced back at his papers. “Yes, well, it is not entirely your fault. I should be more aware of my surroundings,”

She inclined her head in agreement, even as a smirk played about her lips. “Quite so. What if I had been an assassin?” she teased, the familiar sense of relaxation she always had in his presence settling into her shoulders.

“Then I would be most unfortunately deceased, I expect,” he replied with mirth, something unknown glimmering in his eyes. A pregnant moment passed where she found she was unexpectedly lost for words, and he cleared his throat as he glanced at the darkness beyond the window. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

The gentle timbre of his voice both soothed and excited her all at once, and it was to her great horror that she replied, “I missed your company.”

He seemed startled at her response, eyes widening before he regained his composure and graced her with a smile that made her heart falter for a terrifying moment. He crossed the room slowly, taking her hand in his own with a touch so delicate it made her full glad to have scales upon her cheeks, lest the heat suffusing her face give her away. When he bowed his head to place a reverent kiss at her knuckles, she forgot how to breathe. She could feel the warmth and softness of his lips through the supple leather, and that singular point of contact threatened to burn her alive. She inhaled sharply as her lungs began to protest, and she swore she saw the ghost of a satisfied smile pull at his mouth before he straightened and released her hand.

“As I have missed yours,” he murmured, a faint tinge of color upon his own cheeks. “Perhaps then we should adjourn to more... hospitable environs,” he said, glancing around his office with a grimace. It was not messy so much as _bare_, and though she felt a slight anticipation at retiring to more comfortable surroundings – she was _tired_ after all, and wished for nothing more than a cup of hot tea and pleasant company - she also knew it would like as not allow her to let her guard down further and possibly betray the secrets of her affections.

“And pry you from your work? Perish the thought,” she said with a smile, cursing herself for how breathless she sounded.

“I cannot think of a more welcome distraction,” he said as he rounded his desk again to pluck his heavy coat from the back of his chair. And though he spoke so casually, her heart pounded at the implication that her presence in his space at such an hour was _wanted_. “Shall we?” he asked as he offered his arm.

She hoped he saw none of the turmoil she felt as she hesitated, though his assessing eyes were upon her. He did not press, merely waited, until she finally tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. If he noticed her reticence, he had the good grace not to speak of it as they emerged into the frigid night together.

“So, pray, tell me of your travels since last we spoke,” he offered up to the silence, making her aware of how lost she was in her own musings. She glanced at him to find his eyes already upon her, an inscrutable look within. She turned her own gaze to the cobbled stones beneath their feet, struggling for a moment to find her voice.

When at last she did, she told him of the siege at Castrum Oriens, of Lyse, the resistance and Rhalgr's Reach, and the tragedy that struck. He walked in silent contemplation for a few moments, almost seeming haunted at her tale.

“I had seen the reports... but to hear it from your lips,” he paused, searching for the right thing to say, “What you have had to endure … your strength never fails to astonish me.”

“And your words never fail to lighten my heart,” she replied, averting her eyes to gaze instead upon the familiar houses of his street. She heard him let out an amused huff.

“Full glad am I to hear it. For all my supposed skill at diplomacy, I find I never know what to say to those who must endure such hardships.” She smiled at the confession.

“Does anyone?”

“I suppose not,” he conceded with a small smile, releasing her arm to fumble for his keys in his coat pocket. “I will have a kettle put on and see that the guest chambers are made ready for you,” he said, sweeping the door open to reveal the dark foyer.

The last time she had been in his home, every candle had been lighted, with staff at the door to take her coat and guide her to her destination. This felt more... intimate, as though she were stepping into his real world rather than the opulent facade the dinner presented. She wondered if this was how he returned home every evening – alone and in the dark, trudging up the stairs to unburden himself and fall into bed, only to rise early and repeat the cycle anew. How lonely it seemed to her, for she at least had friends to sleep beside on the road and keep her company when the nights grew long and tiresome. It made her heart ache as she gazed up the stairs, startled from her reveries by a tentative touch on her shoulder.

“Is aught amiss?” he asked, voice gentle and concern in his eyes, “You seem distracted this evening,”

She sighed, but offered a reassuring smile. “I suppose I am. My apologies,”

“Not required. Though perhaps you might tell me what is troubling you over that cup of tea? Should you wish to, of course.”

_I am bound for Doma on the morrow, and all my treacherous heart longed for was to see you ere I depart._

The words were on her tongue, taunting, teasing, but she could not give them voice – could not allow herself that taste of freedom. To bare her heart and perhaps learn of his own? It was selfish to want such a thing when so much rode on them both... indulgence was not a luxury afforded to figures such as they.

Her mind went blank as again she felt a touch upon her shoulder, but this time his fingers wound gently beneath the collar of her coat in an effort to slide it from her shoulders. She allowed the action, taking in a shuddering breath as his fingers brushed against the exposed skin of her neck. She was suddenly very aware of their proximity and the tension that seemed to hang heavy in the air as he took the coat from her body with agonizing slowness. Her eyes slid shut as she tried to enjoy the moment for what it was – a gesture of propriety, no matter how his hands seemed to linger. She could feel the heat of him standing behind her, even after her coat had finally been stripped from her person, and she fought the urge to turn – to... indulge. She could see his lips in her mind's eye, wondered if they were truly as soft as they seemed through her glove, if they would be warm and wanting. It had been a poor decision to come to Ishgard, she thought then, attempting to regain control of her wayward mind.

“Aymeric,” she breathed, and hated herself for how much his name sounded like a prayer upon her lips. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and cursed herself again, for she had not meant to speak his name in such a way... as a lover might. The fraying ends of her self-control taunted her as she struggled to reclaim them.

“Mm?” The sound rumbled from his chest, and it had to have been a fevered imagining of her mind, but she swore she felt him step closer.

She tried to regulate her breathing and the beating of her heart. “I... I believe I was promised tea?” and she was pleasantly surprised how composed she managed to sound.

Her words seemed to be all that was necessary to break the strange spell they were under, and she felt rather than heard the rushed exhale behind her. In the span of a breath, he had moved across the foyer, placing her coat upon a rack tucked away in a hidden corner. She tried not to dwell on how the sudden distance made her heart clench – had it not been borne of her own tongue? But when he turned back, the fond smile he gave dispelled nigh all of her misgivings.

“Apologies, my lady. It would seem I also fell prey to distraction,” he murmured, and her heart leapt to her throat at the way his gaze dropped. It was only for the briefest of moments, nigh imperceptible had her eyes not been arrested by the look in his own. She began to doubt her own mind, wondering if her own fervent longing had produced the specter of it in the man before her... or if perhaps, by some sublime twist of fate, his emotions mirrored her own.

He gave her no time to dwell on that prospect, sweeping his arm toward the hallway beyond.

“If it please you, I will set a fire in the hearth and see to your promised tea,”

“Nothing would please me more,” she nearly whispered, the ghost of a smile playing about her features as she fell into step behind him. She sank into a plush chair at his behest, granted a welcome reprieve when he disappeared from the room after setting the logs ablaze. She heard the distant sound of conversation, and finally allowed herself the weakness she had so tried to hide from his view. She placed a hand above her heart, as though will alone could slow its thundering beat, and let her head fall back against the cushion, eyes sliding shut as she finally caught her breath. She cursed whatever prying spirit had compelled her to seek his company against her better judgment, pointedly ignoring the part of her brain that reminded her _she_ had wanted this.

Oh, how it would make the world laugh to know that even their Warrior of Light was not infallible.

She was alerted to Aymeric's return by the footsteps in the hall, and she schooled her features into complete refinement, resolute in her decision to pretend to be unaffected by him. She gave only a polite smile as she took the proffered saucer from him, sipping delicately at the brew within. It was strong and slightly bitter, and her eyes closed of their own accord as a quiet noise of enjoyment rumbled in her throat.

“I remembered your preference, then?” he asked, sounding entirely too smug.

She cracked one eye open and raised a delicate eyebrow, deigning only to respond with a nondescript hum. It seemed to hold the answer he desired, at any rate. He smiled.

“Would you care to speak of what holds your mind so captive?” he asked then, his attempt at light curiosity betrayed by the undercurrent of concern in his voice.

“Tomorrow I go across the sea to Doma,” she said, pleased how her own voice betrayed none of the sentiment she felt, even if she could not meet his eyes. She saw, however, the way he lowered his teacup a touch too slowly, how he set it off to the side and leaned back in his chair.

“Doma is... a long way from home,” he said, almost careful in the way he sounded out the words, as though they were foreign on his tongue.

But there was something about how he said _home_ that made her heart flutter – as though he knew every bit as much as she did that Ishgard was where she belonged, and where she so longed to be.

“Yes,” she whispered, and she could feel his gaze upon her once more, assessing the situation in light of the new information he had been presented. But before he could ask, before he could tear down her defenses with one pointed question... _why come here? ..._ she spoke again,

“Do you remember the question you asked me at dinner?” She was breathless once more, and at his nod she continued, “Perhaps you can answer it in my stead. If you were provided one moment where you could be purely selfish... what would you desire?” When she chanced a peek at his features, she was suddenly stricken by the open longing she saw in his gaze. So sure was she that it was mere imagining, she directed her eyes once again to the teacup sitting forgotten in her lap.

And then, “For you to stay,” murmured in such a way that she was sure her heart would cease functioning altogether.

Some force compelled her to her feet, and she watched with some dismay as her teacup rolled off her skirts to stain the carpet below. She opened her mouth to apologize, turning to find him already standing before her, and her breath caught in her lungs.

“Pray, think nothing of it,” he whispered, and then warm hands were upon her cheeks, holding her with a tenderness she never thought to expect. His gaze was settled firmly on her lips, and she could feel the blood rushing beneath her skin as he lowered his head and her eyes drifted shut of their own accord.

The first tentative brush of his lips nearly broke her, her mind awash with joy and contented murmurings of _finally_, but it was over too soon – he had pulled back, and her eyes flew open as a disappointed noise flitted from her lips unbidden. He looked for all the world as though he had just been struck, a dazed look in his eyes as he searched her face – and then shock, bleeding in with understanding and something just slightly darker as she whispered one desperate word,

“_Please,_”

Whatever reservations held him captive seemed to melt away all at once, and then a hand was winding into her hair as he descended upon her. When next their lips met it was with gentle, affectionate warmth, and yet she could sense the tension beneath it – a strange sort of darker urgency that suggested he had also wiled away long hours in thought about this moment. The thought made her knees buckle, and she was suddenly fisting her hands in the lapels of his coat in an attempt to stay upright. When they parted, she gave chase, reclaiming him with a deftness that made him huff in surprise. But still she felt him holding back, as though he were unsure if this was some far off dream.

When she pressed herself taut against him with a sweet sigh into his mouth, whatever small measure of self-control he maintained shattered. He was suddenly likened to a man starving, seeking his salvation in the softness of her lips as he consumed her. It was electric, the feeling that passed between them then, and she chased it with grasping hands that pulled him ever closer, _closer_...

_Gods._

Her lips parted on a gasp at an insistent tug in her hair, and he took advantage of the opportunity to delve between them and steal the breath from her lungs. He tasted of too sweet tea, yet she found she could not bring herself to care, lost in the heady sensation of his tongue entwining with hers. A soft, wanting whimper was torn from her throat as her hand slid up the plane of his chest to curl delicately in the dark hair at his nape. She cursed the fact that she had not removed her gloves, denying her the opportunity to finally confirm if his hair would be as black silk beneath her fingers. She used that hand to pull him closer still, and she drank from him his groan of pleasure even as he took one faltering step forward to push her back.

Upon meeting the resistance of the wall behind her, he broke their connection, leaning his forehead heavily against hers as he struggled to find his breath. She attempted to do much the same, smoothing her hand over the wrinkles her fists had wrought upon his coat. She was awash with emotion and sensation, and she looked upon him with no small amount of wonder. It was as if her every secret dream were coming true all at once. She was in his arms, her body alight with white flame and her lips tingling from the memory of his own upon them, and she wanted naught but that feeling to continue. Their breath intermingled in the scant space between them, and she found her own shuddering at the feel of his hand caressing a path down her body. His eyes were upon her – hungry, searching... reverent – and she could not help the shiver such a gaze provoked. His hand paused at the swell of her hip.

“I wonder if you might permit me...” he murmured against her lips, fingers trailing to hesitate at the back of her thigh.

“Yes,” she breathed the word, more shaking exhalation than true noise, “yes.”

He lifted her then, gently and as though she weighed nothing at all. Her skirts parted willingly to allow her the opportunity to wrap her legs around him, and she gasped at the feel of his cold metal fastenings brushing the exposed skin of her thighs above her stockings. He pressed her back more firmly against the wall, nudging her chin with his nose in an effort to lave his attentions upon her throat. She wound her fingers in his hair with a sweet sigh as he pressed a searing kiss to the space between her scales, pulling her skin between his teeth in a way that had her arching against him with a surprised moan.

He soothed his mark with a languid stroke of his tongue, a pleased noise rumbling through his chest as he recaptured her lips with a dark urgency that caused her to tremble with anticipation. He was all hunger and heat, but with an underlying tenderness that bespoke his affection for her – a feeling that ran far deeper than the wanting that currently thrummed in their blood. To consider such a thing left her mind reeling, so sure was she until mere minutes before that he harbored none of the feelings she held.

Suddenly, she was overcome, hands sliding beneath the lapels of his coat to pry the wretched thing from his shoulders. He exhaled sharply through his nose in some surprise, capturing her wrists in hands much larger than her own, his hips keeping her pinned against the wall as he reluctantly pulled from her lips to nuzzle at her cheek.

“Not here,” he whispered, his breath labored and a flush high on his cheeks. She was suddenly reminded of where they were, flushing hotly at the realization there was _no door_ to the sitting room, and they were in quite an indecent position indeed.

“Your staff,” she replied with some horror, eyes widening.

“Asleep, but we needs not wake them, hm?” The look in his eyes matched the smirk upon his lips, both reveling in thoughts of sin and desire. She could not be sure it was not mirrored in her own. He placed her gently upon the floor, taking a single step back as he watched her straighten her skirts. She wondered at his silence a moment, then understood he was leaving the choice in her hands of whether or not they continue... whether they finally take some selfish hours for themselves and _indulge_. Her heart pounded beneath her breast as she considered.

“Then,” she murmured, breathless and shaking, “I suppose we should retire for the evening.” She barely caught the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes, at once wondering if she imagined it by how respectfully he bowed over her hand and smiled.

“Of course, my lady. Allow me to show you to the guest chambers, then,”

“I find that I do not rest well on my own. Perhaps you would be so kind as to allow me to share yours instead?”

The smile that spread across his fine features nearly made her knees buckle, and she found herself held captive by his wanting gaze, a question lingering in the depths.

_Are you sure?_

“Please,” she whispered again, eyes dropping to land upon his lips.

“Your wish is ever my command,”

He took up her hand once more, bidding her follow him through the shadowed house. She almost felt as though she should hold her breath, lest she disturb the stillness – a ridiculous thought, she knew, and yet she found herself doing so. Perhaps, she wondered, it was not from an attempt to keep silent, but rather to avoid dispelling the dream she was so surely ensconced in. 'Twas not until he was opening a nondescript door in the upstairs hall that she allowed herself a halting breath, following him over the threshold into his rooms.

They were clean and sparsely decorated, the furniture swathed in the same rich blue he seemed to favor. The only signs the space had been lived in at all were the desk against a far wall, covered in paperwork and miscellany, and a bottle of half-drank spirits beside a small glass on the table near the fireplace. It was through an open door she spied the massive four-poster bed, made of dark polished wood and covered in downy blankets that were sure to keep the Coerthan chill at bay. She sucked in a sharp breath as he lowered his head to nuzzle at her hair.

“It is alright to have reservations,” he said, sounding far more in control of himself than she felt at the moment. She realized then how her pause may have appeared, and she spun to face him with parted lips and hooded eyes darkened with desire.

“I've none,” she whispered, her voice nearly failing despite how _certain _she was about him – about this. “Do you?” The question needed asking. He had been so conscious of her comfort, of her space, and she had to be certain in her delirium that he truly wanted the same.

“_Fury_, no,” he gasped, taking her face in his hands and meeting her lips with an intensity that left her dizzy. When he pulled away, she found she had to cling to him in order to stay upright. The effect he had on her senses was nothing short of extraordinary.

“I know not what magic you have wrought, but I am entirely under your spell, Aluriel,” his voice was filled with utter reverence, but it was not his words that had her heart faltering.

“Say it again,” she breathed, “_my name_.”

He raised one gloved hand to his lips with a soft smile, plucking gently at the fingers until she felt the leather slide against her skin in what seemed a most intimate caress.

“Aluriel,” he murmured, pressing his lips against her bare palm in a gesture that set her nerves alight. She closed her eyes, lips parting on a shuddering breath as he repeated the action on her opposite hand. He released her at her insistent tug, shrugging from his coat with a chuckle when her hands reached to pull it from him. It fell heavily to the floor, and he crooked a finger beneath her chin to guide her head back as she turned to look upon it with what he was sure would be an apology on her lips.

“I care not,” he breathed against her skin, brushing his nose against hers as his eyes slid shut, reveling in their closeness. She made to chase his lips, and he pulled back only slightly, chuckling darkly at her small huff of frustration. The sound sent a shiver skittering up her spine as her hand mapped a path over the embellished fabric of his shirt to brush against the skin at his nape. It was his breath that faltered then as she wrapped her fingers in the soft waves and _pulled_, stealing the opportunity to delve between his parted lips as he bowed his head.

He groaned then - a soft, wanting thing that sent heat pooling low in her belly. _Gods, _she wanted to learn what else she could coax from his tongue, greedy hands tugging at the fabric tucked into his breeches. She felt hard muscle twitch beneath her fingertips when _finally _she brushed against soft skin, and it _burned_ against her hand. He broke from her with a gasp, leaning down just enough for her to pull the offending garment from his body. She tossed it aside without a care, focused entirely on the specimen before her. She felt her breath grow short.

He looked to be sculpted from marble – more picturesque statue than man. He was all hard, lean muscle beneath an expanse of pale skin she longed to explore. Her eyes lingered on old scars, wondering at the stories behind them... his life before becoming the Lord Commander... then caught on those still new, the memories she had by his side startling in their clarity. His was the body of a warrior, a defender who had taken blows meant for her so she could weave her magic, who had stemmed the tide of knights so the Scions could rescue innocents, who had faced dragons and assassins and angry hordes and the abuses suffered at the hands of those under the command of his _father... _all to bring about a future of peace for his people and the city he so loved.

And _gods, _he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen because of it.

She could see the light blush that spread to his chest the longer she beheld him, the way his breathing seemed to quicken beneath her gaze. Her eyes flitted to his, heavy lidded and darkened with desire. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile, his hand catching her wrist easily as she reached to touch him.

“I believe I am at a disadvantage,” he murmured, fanning hot breath over her pulse as he lifted her hand to his lips. The searing kiss he pressed against her wrist set her heart fluttering, and she couldn't prevent her sharp exhalation and the further heat that saw fit to take residence in her blood. She felt his lips curl against her skin. “One of us is still far too overdressed,” he finally finished, his free hand plucking absently at the laces of her bodice.

“Something that needs be remedied,” she said, breathless and shaky.

“Indulge me then, if it please you,” he said, bidding her follow him with a light tug on her wrist. It was with puzzlement she looked at him as he led her to the plush couch before the fire, inclining his head toward it in a silent request for her to be seated.

She did so, albeit reluctantly, parting her lips to question him just as he knelt before her with a grace a man of his height should not possess. Any query died on her tongue then, and she felt the flush rise to her cheeks in the wake of it.

_Oh._

He graced her with a smile entirely too smug, yet she could not bring herself to care, distracted as she was with devilish hands pushing her skirt to rest above her knees. Her mouth went dry as he pulled one slender leg to rest in his lap, fingers caressing her calf on their path to the laces of her boot. That he could bring such eroticism to something so... mundane... well, somewhere in the back of her mind she had the good sense to be impressed.

It was nothing compared to the need that thrummed in her blood when he turned his head to place a reverent kiss on the inside of her knee as he gently pried the boot from her foot. Where his fingers dragged along her leg, flame took hold. Her head fell back against the cushion, a needy whimper fleeing from her throat as he stroked up her thigh to unfasten her garters.

“Gods preserve me,” she murmured, earning a lascivious chuckle from the man at her feet. She could not even feign at embarrassment, lost entirely in the sensation of his lips caressing her bare skin as he rolled the stocking down her leg with deliberate slowness. Her need was bordering on desperate, and he had hardly begun, she knew. It was almost obscene, the way her body responded to even his simplest ministrations, and she inadvertently pressed her thighs together, finding only damp cloth and no friction. She felt rather than heard his small huff of surprise.

“_Fury,”_ she thought she heard him say, his own breath shaking ever so slightly. He reached higher to unlatch the garters on her other leg, brushing against the edge of her smalls and dragging down the juncture of her thigh just far enough to tease her with his proximity before withdrawing to exact the same sensuous torture as before. When at last his lips parted from her ankle and the stocking parted with him, she placed a dainty foot against his chest, pushing him back until he nudged against the table with wide eyes.

Her heart was pounding, her every nerve humming with awareness as she rose from the settee and barely sidestepped his reaching arm. Her fingers fumbled on the laces of her bodice amid her mind's bold proposition, and she forced her feet to slow that grace might aid her steps. She heard him rise to follow as she crossed the threshold into his bedchamber, but did not allow herself to turn and look, opting instead to shrug from the outer layer of her dress as the laces came free. It caught on the spike of her tail for only the briefest moment, but with a flick it was gone, and she was stepping from where it pooled on the floor. She heard his steps falter as she placed a hand upon a polished bedpost, sweeping her long hair over one shoulder as she reached with the other to pluck at the lone ribbon that kept her shift in place. When it had fluttered to the ground, she turned at last to gaze upon him, faltering for a moment at the last tie on her hip before it too gave way, her smalls sliding free so that she was bared to his eyes.

She couldn't be sure if he was even breathing with the stillness that overtook him. He parted his lips once, twice, and again as he took a few faltering steps forward, and she could see then the way his chest heaved and the darkness of his eyes beneath unruly waves.

“Aymeric,” she breathed his name into the silence, startling him from whatever reveries held him captive. He was before her in three long strides, taking her face in his hands as he pinned her with a gaze that laid his soul bare.

“Mercy,” he whispered in reply,” Forgive me. You are,” he pressed his lips against hers with a fervor that stoked the fire in her belly to raging inferno, “_radiant_,” he finished, exhaling the word against her skin.

It felt suddenly that he was everywhere at once, her perception clouded by the thick haze of desire in her mind. She recalled dimly his hands upon her person, the sighs he coaxed from her, and her own hands upon him, pulling him closer in a desperate embrace that ripped a ragged moan from his own throat. Then, downy comfort as she was lowered to the bed where he laved at her throat. His fingers swirled in taunting circles at her hip, dancing closer to her need before trailing back even as his mouth formed a maddening path between her breasts. She wound her hands in his hair with a frustrated whine, tangling her fingers that she might prompt him to _touch her_, gods damn it all. She whined again at his answering chuckle, he entirely disinclined to oblige her.

“Gods, Aymeric, _please_,” she keened, and the pleased noise that rumbled through his chest shook her to her core. Without further preamble, he wrapped his lips around a pert nipple, suckling lightly. She arched into him with a groan, unable to even recognize the disappearance of the hand at her hip until his long fingers finally, _finally_, dipped between her folds. A breathy moan escaped her lips, accompanied by a pained one of his own at the obscene moisture that clung to his fingers. He released her breast to nudge at her throat, closing his eyes as he breathed her in.

“For me?” he managed to say, though not without great difficulty. He stroked her in languid oblong shapes, circling around the bundle of nerves he knew would set her alight, but only close enough that it set her teeth on edge, denying any real relief. Occasionally his fingers would chart a lazy course to her opening, circling in a taunting caress until they dipped within for only a mere moment and tracked back up to continue their cursed teasing. His was a masterful art, she decided, allowing her only enough stimulation to keep her arousal on a steady incline, but it was too slow for her liking. Already she was so pent, hotter than she could ever recall feeling in her life, her every nerve hyper aware. She felt as though she was bound too tightly, nearly painful in its intensity. His lips worked at her jaw with the patient efficiency of a man who had all the time in the world, while his wicked fingers played against her.

“Who would-” she shuddered at a sudden roll of pleasure through her body, “who would have thought that the Lord Commander of Our Knights Most _Holy_,” she emphasized the word as best she could, breathless as she was, “could be so _very _sinful?” He paused lips and hand alike for a beat, allowing her a grateful moment to catch her breath. For a moment she feared she had erred, but then he was leaning up to press a kiss at the corner of her mouth with a smile, plunging two fingers into her slick heat without warning. She didn't know what sound to make at that, eyes blown wide as she thrust into his hand of her own accord. When his thumb slid eagerly against her clit, she very nearly came apart at the seams, a strangled shout forced from her lungs. Gods, she was already so _close-_

“Sinful, perhaps, to thine eyes,” he spoke, his voice low and sonorous, “Before mine only sacred divinity – luminous and lovely. I fall to my knees in helpless supplication to breathe my prayer against her skin that she might knowest my devotion.” _Poetry_, she thought, and it almost would have made her laugh had she not been so otherwise distracted. Yet his voice seemed a caress all its own, his words and seductive tone washing over her in a way that felt reminiscent of his touch.

“Worship lieth not in my words, but in hands upon her altar,” A thumb brushed her nipple, and she gasped, melting instead to a moan at the ministrations of his fingers between her thighs, “offerings not of gold, but of sweetest ardor. I believest only in the shuddering silk of her form beneath my fingers,” she clutched at his shoulders as he continued his relentless assault, quickening the pace just enough that she was sure she would topple in an instant. She felt her nails pierce his skin, and aside from a slight tense, he seemed unaffected, placing a tender kiss along her jaw as he spoke, “religion found in the soft sighs her lips offer to the heavens – and in her ecstasy,” he curled his fingers at that exact moment, and light blossomed behind her eyes. Her body tensed, muscles taut and aching as she arched against him with a broken cry. She was tumbling, flying from the precipice as she spasmed around his fingers, her body awash with a pleasure unlike any she had ever felt. For a blinding moment, everything was dark, and then her body went slack as she collapsed into the blankets, trying desperately to draw air into her lungs. She heard him take a shuddering breath, then another, and finally, “my salvation.” The words were whispered into the space between them, and despite her boneless afterglow, she pulled him close with a whimper. He was all too happy to oblige, taking her lips with an almost desperate urgency. She took his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging it gently so he groaned into her mouth, and as he pressed closer she was _quite_ aware of his burning need resting heavy against her thigh. Her fingers darted between them to slide beneath the waistband of his breeches and take him fully in hand, to which he responded with a sharp jerk of his hips and a hoarse curse.

“Ah,” he panted into her hair, wrapping a hand around the offending wrist. She couldn't help the disappointment that flitted across her face as he extricated her. His throat bobbed a few times, and it was with his face still buried in her hair that he managed with some difficulty to speak. “I-I will not last should you-” he paused, cleared his throat, “It is not my need with which I am concerned at the moment,”

“But _I_ am,” she countered, dragging her fingers gently across the skin at his waist. The muscles there jumped beneath her fingertips, and her lips turned down when he pushed up and away from her.

“Your honeyed words will not stay me from my course,” he chuckled, re-settling between her legs. The lazy, coiling warmth in her belly suddenly sparked to life at the feel of his teeth nibbling gently at her thigh.

“Which is?” she queried, more than a little breathy in the asking of it. She swore she felt her heart falter when those clear blue eyes settled upon her own, and a salacious smile pulled at his lips.

“First, to devour you,” he punctuated with another lingering kiss on the thigh opposite, “then, to bring you another release,” another kiss, “and another,” a scrape of teeth that set her gasping, “and another... until the world falls away and there remains only us, only this. _Then_, I will take my pleasure.” She shuddered bodily beneath him, hear ears catching on a desperate, wanton sound that she belatedly realized was borne of her own tongue.

It was then he placed his own against her quivering sex, and she very nearly convulsed in his arms. He held her fast with a grunt, superior musculature claiming victory over her wayward body. He laved the flat of his tongue over her bud, and the spike of mindless bliss that coursed through her nearly made her unravel again. She was oversensitive, every deft stroke of his tongue threatening to overwhelm her as she buried her hands in his dark hair. Her moans became a litany of _yes_, mingled with his name until the two were inseparable. She cried out when he returned his fingers to her dripping core, pumping them slowly until her whines increased in pitch and her legs began to tremble around his head. With the slick introduction of a third, she came apart, hands grasping desperately at the blankets so as not to tear the hair from his skull. Her hips thrust against his face as he coaxed her through. Nearly the moment she had come down, she was pulling back, and he relented with a puzzled look.

The light caught her slick on his chin, and she flushed hotly, breathing forced and irregular. He waited, watching, patiently awaiting her return – but she needed... not _more, _but _him._ He was so beautiful in the flickering firelight, pupils blown wide, a flush across his own face and chest, hair delightfully mussed, but it was there in his eyes – that reverence he reserved only for her. Now it was so _obvious_, and she wondered how she had never noticed it before.

“A-Aymeric, please,” she whispered, watching in fascination at the way his eyes widened, “I want- I...” In an instant he was crawling back over her, stealing her breath in a kiss that spoke of all they didn't have the words to say. She could taste herself upon his tongue, and the heady mixture was enough to send her head into a spin. This time, he did not stop her when she reached for the buttons at his waist, flicking them free one by one until they could shove the garment from his hips. She heard them hit the floor as he kicked them off, but much more intoxicating was the relieved moan, long and throaty, that spilled from his lips when his aching shaft sprung free of its confines. It was very nearly weeping with need, and she slipped her thumb along the slit to sweep up the liquid there. He rested his forehead heavily against hers with a low moan, eyes glittering darkly as she brought it to her lips to lick it clean.

She reached between them again to wrap her hand around him, pumping him twice and hooking a leg above his hip in encouragement. He seemed to search her eyes for a moment, and she nodded quietly against him, leaning up just enough to take his lips. They broke apart the moment she guided him in, he to bury his face in her neck with a broken moan, and she to allow her head to fall back, lips parted and eyes shut in rapture at the torturous glide of him. It seemed a small eternity before he was fully hilted, and he shuddered atop her. Gods, she felt so full in the very best of ways, nearly a year of fantasy culminated in this one, perfect moment. She felt _complete_. She rubbed soothing circles into the straining muscles of his back, shivering at the damp exhalations on her neck.

When finally he began to pull back, it dragged a ragged gasp from them both. He pressed his lips again to her jaw, placing gentle, reverent, open mouthed kisses to her skin and scales. His teeth seized the flesh at the junction of her shoulder as he thrust home, and she saw stars.

“_Gods,_” she gasped as he found his rhythm – a punishing pace that would see them both over the edge. They were too desperate for leisurely lovemaking now, too far gone in the other – body and soul. The connection she felt in that moment was profound in its intensity, and she felt the tears spring to her eyes unbidden as he moved within her, chasing their release. He nuzzled against her cheek, breath hot and heavy against her skin as her hoarse cries echoed off the walls. She wrapped her arms about his neck, fingers twining in his hair as he carried her higher, ever _higher_, and _yes_-

“I love you,” she breathed against his ear, and then she _shattered_, clenching around him as wave after wave of bliss assaulted her senses. Somewhere in the distance she heard his own shattered cry as he toppled right behind her, pulsing within as she felt a suffusion of wet heat. He collapsed atop her, and she welcomed his weight as they laid unmoving for some time. She was nearly asleep when she felt him stir, pressing his lips against her cheek.

“And I you,” he murmured, voice tinged with the heavy timbre of exhaustion, “more than words will ever be able to express.” She half turned her head to look upon him, a bright smile gracing her visage. They lingered that way for a few moments more, then he rolled off of her, both of them moaning softly as he slipped from her body. She immediately felt their mutual spend drip against her thighs and the blankets below, and she grimaced, pressing her legs together even as he stood with a slight chuckle.

“A moment, if you would, and I will see you adequately tended.”

She hummed her assent, attempting both not to move, and to stay awake. “So,” she ventured as she heard water running in a room just beyond. She heard his questioning hum and she continued, smiling with some amusement. “Poetry?”

The water stopped, and he rounded the corner with a dampened cloth, looking far more beautiful than anyone had rights to after what they had just experienced. The corners of his mouth pulled up in an embarrassed sort of half-smile.

“My favorite excerpt from a book given to me by Haurchefant when we were scarcely older than Alphinaud,” he said by way of explanation. She cocked a brow and he sighed, though the smile tugged further. “He said I was too uptight and needed to '_broaden my horizons'_. I suppose he was right,”

She laughed. It was so _blessedly_ Haurchefant that she dared not even question it further.

“Well, full glad am I that you find it so _amusing_,” he huffed, trying to suppress his own chuckle as he pushed her knees apart. He employed the same gentle thoroughness on her cleansing that he did her pleasure, and she offered him a bright, fond smile even as her eyes drifted shut from his soothing ministrations. She was already half-asleep by the time he returned to her side, and she hardly noticed how he lifted her to lie beneath the blankets. When she drifted off, it was to his arm heavy about her waist and his breath in her hair – and peace in her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so far in hell I actually did RESEARCH on proper archaic English grammar for my stupid poem. Did you know the possessive first person "mine" should only be used before a word starting with a vowel sound? (Ex: Mine arm, mine ear) I sure didn't, but it makes so much sense. (*cough* no I certainly was not using it horribly wrong before I researched that why would you think such a thing *cough* remind me never to write Urianger) 
> 
> Yay fun facts! :D
> 
> ...Someone please come join me in this pit.
> 
> (Just in case it's a little hard to read the poem with it all disjointed like that, I will post the unbroken version below. Poetry is not usually in my wheelhouse, but hey.)
> 
> Sinful, perhaps, to thine eyes. Before mine only sacred divinity – luminous and lovely. I fall to my knees in helpless supplication to breathe my prayer against her skin that she might knowest my devotion. Worship lieth not in my words, but in hands upon her altar - offerings not of gold, but of sweetest ardor. I believest only in the shuddering silk of her form beneath my fingers, religion found in the soft sighs her lips offer to the heavens – and in her ecstasy, my salvation.
> 
> Edit: This kind of blew up overnight so, uh, if anyone wants to yell at me in game feel free! (Also I am a WHM so hit me up for heals if you need)  
Crystal Data Center: Diabolos: Aluriel Ivara
> 
> Or feel free to hit me up on discord: Sairebear#2264
> 
> Or find me on tumblr at my new FFXIV Blog! light-and-spirit.tumblr.com


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